


say yes, damn you

by wordtheef



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, no one is healthy or happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordtheef/pseuds/wordtheef
Summary: The worst mistake of her life had been marrying Jaime.





	say yes, damn you

Brienne went into the elevator, hit the button with a little more force than necessary, and let herself sag against the wall. Her feet hurt in these damned shoes, her head rang from inane conversation and too-loud laughter, and her chest ached from being around so many Lannisters.

She hated that Tywin, she hated Cersei, and although Tyrion was always polite to her face, she felt the smile behind his words. The rest of them — gruff Robert and bemused Shae and the various cousins and children — she’d barely met — but probably she hated them too. It was fair enough; they were never pleasant. Smiles and smirks and raised eyebrows.

She shut her eyes and wished herself a girl again. Safe on Tarth. A million miles from anyone named Lannister.

The worst mistake of her life had been marrying Jaime.

He wouldn’t be home yet, of course. He was at the party, drinking with his brother. Hopefully. If she was less fortunate — he’d be drinking with Cersei.

Drinking, or more.

Shoes came off first, then the million and one pins in her hair. She was reaching awkwardly for the concealed zipper down the back of her dress when Jaime said: “I could help you with that.”

She whirled and stared.

Eyes bright, lips red and — swollen? Had his own teeth bitten down there, or had someone else done it? “You’re drunk.”

“Not so very.”

“I thought you’d be gone longer.” She turned again, lifting her hair so he could unzip her.

Instead he pressed his mouth against the nape of her neck; his arm went around her waist. “You left, wife.”

“You know I hate your family.”

Biting down her shoulder, rubbing himself on her ass. _Jaime_. “Good idea. They’re horrible people. The only reason they talk to you is to be cruel.”

His hand dropped down below the hemline of her dress and slipped under it, trailing upward on her thigh; his other cupped her breast, finding the nipple.

“Why do you tell me these things?”

“They hate everyone, Brienne. Stop taking it personally. Are you really wearing panties under this dress? No wonder people talk about you.”

His fingers went inside.

“It’s my little quirk. I feel n-naked without clothes on. And don’t say that word. I hate that word.”

“Mm,” said Jaime. He wasn’t listening, he never listened, even their first time was like this — she told him _No_ and he changed it to a _Yes_, he made her whimper and beg and promise anything at all if he would only fuck her, please, please.

_Marry me, _he’d said._ I’ve wanted you so long, I’ve thought of you so often. I’ll do this to you every night._

She couldn’t remember agreeing. Had she ever said yes?

_You’ll have money, Brienne. You’ll be so damn rich, you can help every starving orphan you meet. My family will make you miserable and we’ll argue every day and I want you anyway. Marry me, goddammit._

She _must_ have agreed at some point.

The engagement itself was a blur of parties and sex, new clothes and arguments, alcohol and sex and an embarrassingly large diamond ring that Jaime gave to her purely so he could see her appalled face, and laugh.

He hadn’t even kissed her in the sept, only brushed his mouth against her cheek and whispered: _Later_.

He came to her that night thick with wine and smelling of a familiar perfume.

They fought.

Brienne asked for a divorce.

He smiled at her, just a twist of his mouth. _Sure. Right after we have our wedding night._

He kissed her open palm and her pulse skipped; he ran his thumb over her hip and her thighs fell apart, so easily, as though they were made to have his face between them.

When she dragged his head up by his hair, he kissed her mouth.

She could taste herself on his tongue.

_Don’t say that word to me anymore, _he said. _Not ever._

Now, still in the dim little hallway, he pushed up her skirt to her waist and thrust deep inside her body, cradling her ass. “Don’t leave me,” he said into her skin. “Stay with me here. Stay, Brienne.”

_I want a divorce_, she tried to say again: but all that came out was a greedy, gasping moan.

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to “Magpies” by forpeaches (my alter).
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146069


End file.
